


Undone

by jenorama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, wanking, wankst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26224993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenorama/pseuds/jenorama
Summary: An oldie!  Years and years ago, Pandora J wrote an amazing Charlie/Tonks/Remus love triangle called Consequences and she allowed me to contribute a small part to it.Charlie and Tonks have a past and he's coming to realize that he is not part of her future.
Relationships: Nymphadora Tonks/Charlie Weasley
Kudos: 8





	Undone

_Author’s Note: This fic takes place immediately after the events in chapter four of “Consequences” by Pandora J. I want to thank her very much for answering my pesky questions and allowing me splash around in her world. Is this part of my “Reconnecting” Potterverse? You decide._

_“Please Charlie...Just go.”_ The words reverberate in my head and I let out a long breath, leaning against the door. “Damn it.” Unable to stay outside her door, I go down to the basement kitchen. Maybe Bill is still up. I could use a good argument right about now.

The stone kitchen is cold and empty, matching my mood exactly. The bottle of terrible whiskey is still there and I sit down, folding my arms on the table and resting my head on them, staring at that bottle. I take a deep breath and catch her scent. It’s all over my shirt and I quickly whip it over my head and throw it in the far corner. It’s practically brand new, but I know I’ll never wear it again.

Shirtless now, I shiver in the cold air of the kitchen and point my wand at the fireplace, setting a fire blazing. The firelight reflects off of the bottle and catches my eye again. Why not? I’ve got a travel day tomorrow and I’ve never had a problem sleeping on trains before. Not bothering with a glass, I unscrew the cap and drink straight from the bottle, welcoming the burn of the unrefined alcohol down my throat.

Gulping the liquor down, I shake my head and shiver as the warmth blooms in my belly. “Ugh. Bill, where did you find this?” There is still half the bottle left and I eye it warily. It’s true that my train-sleeping skills are unparalleled, but if I’m going to get drunk, there’s got to be something better than this around. I screw the cap back onto the bottle.

The house is completely quiet and I don’t feel like disturbing it as I crash around, looking for good, or even mediocre, alcohol. The longer I think about it, the moreI know that Mum’s chucked it all out, anyway. I unscrew the cap on the bottle and take another drink. The room has begun to warm, but I’m still cold, despite the building fire inside of me. A quick conjure takes care of that and I am comfortably ensconced in a cozy armchair in front of the hearth, my feet propped up on a footstool of my creation.

My friend for the evening, the bottle, is cradled in my elbow and I stare into the flames, ruminating. She’s seeing someone. And, it’s serious. I remember when we used to be serious, but that was a long time ago. Too long ago? Probably. 

Whose fault is that, really? As I sit and stare into the flames, brooding like some git in those horrible romance novels I know she still reads, I know I have no one to blame but myself. I take another drink, holding the whiskey in my mouth, punishing myself with the taste before allowing the liquid to trickle slowly down my throat for the maximum burn.

Eyes closed, I frown at the image painted on the blackness. Amy. Beautiful, blonde, brilliant. I think she liked dragons better than people. I suppose I could say that it was inevitable, but that’s just bollocks. That I was so far away from Nymph and Amy was there in the camp every few weeks. Sort of like “out of sight, out of mind.” But, that’s just more bollocks. I knew what I was doing when I didn’t tell her I had a girlfriend in London. I knew what I was doing when I responded to her flirtations and I knew what I was doing the first time I shared her bed. 

The first time it happened, I tried to behave as if it wasn’t a big deal. As if I hadn’t just cheated on the person that meant the most to me in the whole world. I went on with my normal daily routine, but inside, I began to resent Nymph. It wasn’t my fault she had chosen to stay in London and become an Auror. I was a young man and I had needs, by God. That’s all this was, the satisfaction of needs. Besides, why couldn’t we see other people? Why couldn’t I be with Amy in the dragon camp and with Nymph in London?

I shake my head in shame for that bloody stupid twenty-two year old. I didn't realize what I was throwing away until much later. And for what? An on-again, off-again relationship with no kind of stability what with Amy constantly in and out of the camp, sometimes for weeks at a time. Even with the absences, I still saw more of her than Nymph.

Another drink and another memory as I stare into the flames. When Amy found out about Nymph, I thought for sure that was the end of my goolies and me. Never, ever trifle with a woman who spends her life working with cantankerous dragons. 

I had that last weekend with Nymph, not consciously realizing it would be my last, but, deep down, I think we both knew. I was very determined to make it a weekend we would both remember and I think I succeeded. I’m very glad I didn’t have to see her face when she found out about Amy and me. I don’t think I could have lived with that etched on my memory.

Shifting in the armchair, I brush my hair away from my forehead with my left hand. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I’d found that she’d moved on. I hold up my left hand and flex it, looking at the way the firelight reflects off the shiny skin of the two scars. One on my palm, the other, slightly larger, on the back of my hand. I should be grateful that I still have the full use of it. There really isn’t much call for a one-handed dragon wrangler.

It’s funny; the pain of the fence spike going through my hand didn’t hurt as much as seeing Nymph, my Nymph, with that sodding bastard. Seeing her willingly taking her clothes off for someone else. Seeing her lie back and spread her legs, her mouth in that perfect “o” of ecstasy. When I saw her hair color ripple and knew she’d come with that tosser’s prick inside of her, I snapped and actually drove my own hand down on that spike. No, it didn’t hurt as much, it just hurt differently.

The image of Nymph and that bloke stays with me, their figures mimicked by the dancing flames. Something’s not right though. I swirl the remaining liquid in the bottle and down the rest of it in one long, burning gulp. Looking back at the fire, I replace the idiot with...me.

Closing my eyes again, I slouch back in the chair and set the now-empty bottle on the stone floor. The fire has warmed my skin and I try and tell myself that the throbbing I feel in my middle is from the abysmal drink, but I know that’s not true. Thinking of Nymph and her outstanding body and the way it felt in my arms earlier, the warm, smooth skin under my mouth...

“Oh God...” my voice disturbs the quiet of the room and I open my eyes, not moving, alert for any other sounds. The whole house is asleep, even that damned portrait. Chances of someone stumbling in on me are very slim and I allow my hand to slip down to my belt, running my fingers over the leather. 

My erection is very apparent and I run my palm over it, groaning quietly at the sensation. Decision made, I rest one leg over the arm of the chair and unfasten my belt and trousers, freeing my hard cock. I had joked with Nymph about being a wanker, but it’s more of a sad fact, these days. My eyes slip closed and I touch myself, surprised as always at the heat of my skin there. Nymph is that hot when I touch her there. Hot, and definitely slicker. I flick my wand and my palm fills with warmth. I wrap my fist around my cock, grateful as ever for older brothers.

I begin to move my hand up and down, eyes closed tight against the firelight and the lonely room. In my darkness, I call up an image, a specific image of Nymph in front of me, drying off from her shower. Her hair is damp and her skin smells fresh and clean. She hangs her towel and stands in front of the mirror, completely unselfconscious of her body. I move behind her, my cock already stirring, anticipating her sweet warmth.

My hands run over her body, my palms over her breasts, and I fasten my lips to her neck, sucking gently and biting down just at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. I cup her breasts and pinch her nipples, biting down harder when she says my name. One hand on her breast, I move the other down the skin of her belly, tickling her ribs until I reach my goal. Her coarse curls brush my fingers as I part the lips of her cunt, seeking her warmth and softness.

I look in the mirror and see her eyes, _her_ eyes, not someone else’s, clouded with desire. Her mouth is open, her tongue probing her lips and I pull her chin around, covering her lips with mine. I’m not polite about it, forgetting to ask permission when I push my tongue into her mouth as I thrust my fingers into her, rubbing her clit mercilessly. She moans into my mouth and I swallow the sound, breaking apart to suck on her lower lip. 

My wanton Nymph spreads her legs further apart, allowing me to slide two fingers inside her. I fuck her with my hand as she bucks her hips, rubbing that glorious arse against my prick. I can’t take it anymore; I need to be inside of her. Leaving my fingers buried inside of her, I use my other hand to loosen my belt and trousers, letting them fall at my feet. Bending her forward, I thrust into her, replacing my fingers with my hard cock. 

I don’t think I’ve ever felt her this wet, this ready for me in all the times I’ve fucked her and I love it, pushing into her over and over. The sound of our groans fills the small room and the slap of our flesh coming together is driving me over the edge. 

“Oh fuck,” I groan, my hand gripping my cock tighter. I’m thrusting my hips, fucking my fist and my breath becomes shallower as I work my imagination overtime. The smell of sex and soap fills my nostrils, our gasps and sighs are music and the sensation of being buried deep inside my Nymph overwhelms me and I grit my teeth as I come with a shudder. 

Breathing hard, I sit still in the armchair, hand still wrapped around my softening prick, come cooling on my heaving chest. I open my eyes and wipe the sweat from my brow, feeling like the most pathetic creature on the planet. I shouldn’t be in here, abusing myself shamelessly. My wand takes care of my emissions as well as the chair and the footstool. The empty bottle gets thrown into the bin, carefully buried under other rubbish.

Quietly, I make my way to the room I share with Bill, pausing at the study a moment before walking in. _“Lumos.”_ I search around the large desk until I find parchment, quill and ink. A few minutes later, I look at the note and nod, folding it in half and leaving the study. _“Nox.”_

A few more steps and I’m right back where I began. Stooping, I shove the note under her door, desperately hoping she’ll understand. 


End file.
